Resist me if you can
by beerchips
Summary: Brittana story with G!P britt, teacher Santana and student Brittany.
1. Chapter 1

**AN always wanted to write something about teacher/student relationships so that's what this is going to be. **

**I know it's short but this is just to get things started.**

**And also, don't hate me I'll update the second story tomorrow.**

* * *

The screeching sound of the bell signaling for all high-schoolers the beginning of the first period can be heard through the entire territory of McKinley High. Most of the students are already in their classrooms, some of the lazy ones just barely making inside before their teacher. However, one Brittany S. Pierce, clearly unfazed by the sound, continues half-laying on the worn out couch under the bleachers, finishing her first cigarette of the day. The little pieces of sky visible through the gaps are almost as blue as her eyes and the smoke that rises from her lips seem like they're merging with the small clouds that wind keeps steering to the south. The blonde girl seems so entranced in them it's possible she didn't even hear the bell.

After she looks down on her watch and with an eye-roll notes she's, yet again, late, she pushes up from the couch with a grunt and with one last and longest drag she throws the butt on the ground, making a good show of mashing it with the heel of her black combat boots. Once she's sure that all that remains are flattened out fibers, she grabs her also black backpack and starts walking in the direction of the entrance.

"Ms. Pierce, you're late."

Even though she didn't expect to hear the Indian accent in her Lit class, she doesn't pay much attention to it.

"Yeah, I know. I have a watch." She shrugs nonchalantly, plopping down in her place in the back of the classroom.

"Well, why are you late then?"

"Why does it matter, I'm here, aren't I?"

"This is already third time this week, and it's only Wednesday!" Principal sounds like he's starting to get irritated.

"God, Figgins, it's not like I can turn back time. Either get over it or give me detention." Brittany huffs in annoyance.

"That is no way to speak to the Principal, Ms. Pierce! You're going to stay after school for two weeks and help Ms. Lopez sort out the mess Mr. Harris left when he ran off to marry a woman with questionable reputation."

"Whoa there, _Principal_ Figgins, don't tell me you have something against prostitutes?! Because I can tell you, the ones who know how to…"

Half of the class erupts in "hell yeahs" and "right ons", the other half just frowns at her. Not like she cares about that. She does high-five Puckerman though. But that's just to piss off Figgins even more.

"Silence, children! Silence! That's it, Ms. Pierce! You're coming with me!" Even though his ethnicity doesn't allow him to blush, Brittany's sure the principal's face is about to start leaking blood.

The blonde gets up without much protest; she knows she has pushed him too far this time. Figgins is not that bad of a headmaster, but it's just too easy to push his buttons.

She's already half-way through the room when she remembers something, "Who's Ms. Lopez, by…?"

The rest of her words die on her lips, because for the first time since she walked into the classroom her eyes shift from the principal and fall on the young woman standing by the window, staring at her with the expression of pure shock.

Before she has time to observe the woman any further she's led out of the room, straight to the principal's office. Once they walk into the room, Brittany drops down on the couch. Figgins rounds the table and sits down, lacing his fingers together.

"Brittany," He says finally, after five minutes of silence, "I know past few months have been rough on you, but you can't go on like this. You're constantly late, your grades have fallen. You're causing riots in classes. Not to mention the disrespectful behavior. Today I was going to introduce you and your friends to a new substitute teacher. It's her first day here and now she probably thinks this is the worst school in the state. William McKinley was one of the brightest presidents of our country! Our school has to honor his name, not make him turn in his grave with shame!"

Brittany rolls her clear blue eyes (the man's such a drama queen) and waits patiently to find out just what kind of punishment she's earned herself this time. But, as it turns out, Figgins has decided to stick with the original detention. Though she really can't understand how she can help this new teacher sort out the shit the old one has left. She doesn't even know what is this shit that needs to be sorted, and she definitely can't understand why of all people she has to help. She's never even been good in literature. Half an hour later the blonde is finally out of the room with a headache coming on and once again starts in the direction of the bleachers. After those thirty minutes with Figgins she just _has_ to have a smoke.

* * *

When Santana Lopez told her mother she had landed a job as a substitute in McKinley high the first thing that came out of the woman's mouth was: "Santana, mija, you're a beautiful girl. High school is a dangerous place bursting with teenage hormones (as if Santana didn't know this herself). You're not much older than them. Promise me you'll be careful and won't get involved in anything!"

Santana promised not giving it a second thought. She had been through enough drama in her own high school days and new better to be involved in that dark shit again. She told her mother she had nothing to worry about, but today, when she stepped out of her car, she saw a black mustang pull up beside her and the most gorgeous girl step out with an unlit cigarette between her lips. Without even glancing around, the girl locked the car and avoiding the school entrance, went in the direction of the stadium.

And later when the same girl is led out from her classroom it flashes in her mind that maybe keeping the promise she had given to her mother won't be as easy as she has originally thought.

* * *

**so, anyone (other than me) interested?**


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the last period is over, Santana has already forgotten the little incident she'd witnessed in the morning. But when the last student is out of the classroom and finally she has some time to sit down and relax, it all comes back to her. She remembers the way the blonde girl had been unbelievably calm and nonchalant in her behavior. High school students can be really rude, she knows that. Hell, she's been one of those students not that long ago, but it's the way the girl had been so cool about it that confused Santana the most. Two weeks of two hour long detention is not a joking matter to her and the blonde hadn't even bat an eyelash. It was like she didn't even care! And just what kind of teenager wants to spend additional time at school? What she remembers next makes her frown. She's the one the blonde's going to spend her detention with. The thought of spending that much time with her brings an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She knows if the blonde's going to repeat the morning act on her she's going to snap and she really doesn't want to snap on her first day. Then there's always the possibility of Snixx coming out to show, which is never pretty and that's just unacceptable in her work place. She actually wants to keep this job.

"Ms. Lopez," Principal Figginses' voice sounds almost too cheerful to be true. Just like the smile he has plastered on his face as he enters the classroom.

"Mr. Figgins," Santana goes to stand up.

"Oh, please don't bother on my account," Figgins waves his hand immediately, sounding almost elated. The fact that the young woman was even willing to stand up seems like a huge deal to him.

_Just what kind of people go to this place?! _Santana wonders to herself. But then she remembers seeing a woman in red track suit passing through the hallway like a tornado and she's not sure she wants to know.

"How was your first day?" He inquires politely, but something about him tells the young teacher that that's not what the man wants to discuss.

"Better that I expected." Still she answers truthfully.

"The children didn't give you too much trouble?" He asks, his voice laced with worry.

"Nothing I can't handle." She reassures him with a smile.

"Good, good." The man suddenly seems nervous. "I actually wanted to talk about Brittany before she got here. The girl from the first period." He adds when confusion passes over the young woman's face.

"Oh, what about her?" _I was right_.

"I understand how she may have seemed a little inconsiderate..."

_Wow is that an understatement!_

"...but she's not a bad kid. She's going through a rough time now."

"Did something happen to her?"

Mr. Figgins glances around as if to make sure they are alone and moves closer to Santana.

"I'm not sure this is my place to talk," he's even more nervous now, and the more nervous he gets the more Santana wants to know about the girl.

"Ms. Pierce lost her father recently." He whispers at last.

_Oh_, Santana thinks not expecting this at all, but feeling very sorry for her nonetheless.

"Yes, but that's not all-"

Before he has time to finish Brittany strolls into the room, dropping her backpack by the door.

"Here I am, Mr. Principal Figgins. I'm not late again, am I?"

"No you're not." The man exhales.

"Cool," she breathes. Her eyes fall on the woman sitting by the table. "Hey, you must be Ms. Lopez. We didn't get the chance to meet this morning. Brittany S. Pierce at your service." she walks up to her, sticking out her hand with a smile.

Santana stares at her for a second. The girl sure is confident. Almost to the point of annoying, but annoyed is not what Santana becomes. She's not sure she wants explore that point yet. Or ever. Preferably never ever.

"Brittany! I'm going to be forced to call your mother." The principal tries to threaten her, but the girl seems unfazed.

"Oh no! Not my sweet dear ol' mother!" The blonde whines sarcastically, "you think she's gonna pick up this time?"

Figgins opens his mouth, but obviously having nothing to say, closes again.

Brittany shakes her head, "Get over it already, Fig. She doesn't care."

The man doesn't know what to say to that, because Brittany's right. No matter how many times he's tried to contact her, the woman always brushed him off saying she was busy. And that was on the rare occasions on which she actually answered the phone. So he just settles on, "I'm not your Fig."

"Sorry," Brittany rolls her cat-like eyes walking over to the table in the first row and leans against it.

"All right," the principal claps once, "as I said this morning, Mr. Harris has run off and left all the essays, papers and, actually I think everything, back at his place. It appears that he hasn't graded anything since the beginning of the school year. And students do need those grades. I'm very sorry, Ms. Lopez, but since you're taking over his classes, you need to retrieve those things. Brittany's going to accompany you to his house."

What goes through Santana's mind is that this Mr. Harris must have been a horrible teacher. And that she's going to have loads of essays to grade. She sighs internally and nods. Brittany, on the other hand, just shrugs.

"Very well," Figgins looks pleased, "this is his address. And here are the keys. Good luck, ladies." He hands the keys he got from Sue Sylvester to Santana.

"How did you get his keys?" Brittany wonders aloud before Santana can. The young teacher looks expectantly at the suddenly uncomfortable-looking man.

He stays silent for a minute, then turns around without a sound and marches out f the room.

"That was...strange." Santana stares after him in confusion.

"Not really," Brittany shrugs, "I bet he got those from Sue."

"Who's Sue?"

"Not someone who has the authority to hand out keys to other peoples houses." With that the blonde girl goes to pick up her backpack and walks out.

Grabbing her coat and bag, Santana hurries after the blonde girl only to catch up with her at the parking lot. After a small argument over whose car to take, which, of course, Santana wins (she is the teacher after all. There shouldn't have been any argument to begin with), they are on their way.

* * *

Santana turns the key carefully and when the telltale click is heard, pushes the door open. _I can't believe I'm doing this._

"Is it still breaking and entering if you have a key?" Brittany wonders behind her as if reading her thoughts. "I mean, we're not breaking anything, right?"

"I'm afraid that doesn't count."

The door opens without a hitch revealing Mr. Harrises' livingroom. The young teacher and her student step inside, one uneasily, the other casually. Both set of eyes roam over the furniture and walls.

"Where do we start?"

"I have no idea."

Brittany shrugs in response and wanders off, saying she always wanted to see how the teachers live.

Following her example, Santana walks further into the house. As she goes through different rooms, she notices two things: 1. The papers are scattered all over the house; and 2. Whoever lived in this house has left in a hurry. It appears that Brittany has come to the same conclusion.

"Wow, when Figgins said he took off, he ment it literally." The teenager's eyebrows rise in astonishment. She remembers Mr. Gerald Harris, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and child-like laugh. He had been her favorite teacher for the last three years after all. He had always been attentive to every single student, always trying to include everyone in the lessons so no one would feel left out. Always listened to what the student had to say, even if they were wrong. He had been a good teacher, until about the beginning of October. That's when he stopped paying attention in classes. He gave students endless quizzes and essays to write and while they were at it, he continued gazing out of the window, releasing a sigh every now and then. That's when Brittany knew he was in a deep shit also known as love. And now he even disappeared without a trace to prove it.

"Love is strange." Brittany says at last, shaking her head as if to break out of her thoughts. The box she has found in the kitchen serves as a great container for the papers she and Santana are collecting all through the house.

"Most people think it's amazing." _Or at least most teenagers,_ Santana thinks to herself, as she places another stack of quizzes in the box.

"I think, only people who haven't been in love think like that."

The dark-haired woman pauses and looks at the girl curiously, waiting for her to add something. She's not sure why, but she wants to know what the student is thinking.

"I think...love is a deep longing for another person that can never be fulfilled. No matter how close you are to them, you can never be close enough. Then there's fear they don't love you enough. They don't want you enough. That they are going to leave you eventually. I don't know. Love seems kind of a terrible thing if you think about it."

Brittany doesn't know why she's telling all this to a stranger, who on top of that is her teacher, but she has a feeling she can say whatever she wants and this woman will listen. Besides, it's not like she has a lot of opportunities to talk about these kind of things since her father decided to have a heart attack right in front of her and left her alone. And even though she enjoys the perks of being alone most of the time, she's still a human, craving to be heard and understood.

"Have you been in love?" Santana asks at last.

"No...but this is what I think when I think about love."

When the woman doesn't say anything, Brittany looks at her, "You think I'm wrong?"

"I...I think every person loves differently."

"Does that mean I'm right and wrong at the same time?" Brittany asks after a minute with a smile.

"More or less, yes." Santana grins back.

The teenager continues smiling at her, "I'm sorry I missed your first class."

"That's quite all right. You do have another one tomorrow."

* * *

When Santana Lopez landed a job as a substitute teacher at McKinley High and promised her mother she'd stay out of trouble, she didn't know she would meet Brittany S. Pierce and that her life would change.


	3. Chapter 3

So I'm trying to get this story going again and it's providing to be harder than I thought, but that's no reason to stop, right?

* * *

Santana breathes a relieved sigh when the door closes behind Brittany. Her first day as a teacher is finally over and if she does say so herself, it has gone pretty damn well. She leans back against the chair closing her eyes, her tense muscles really relaxing for the first time that day. And the girl, Brittany, turned out to be not as much of a juvenile delinquent as she first feared and anticipated. On the contrary, she was quite interesting. Well, intriguing is probably a better word. Maybe even a little bit strange.

Anyhow, Santana is more or less convinced she's not going to prove to be a problem. Which is great, because she's a responsible adult now (she snorts), and has to keep all the rage in check.

The rest of the day passes quickly. She has dinner with her parents to celebrate the successful beginning of the new era in her life. Then goes back to her small apartment (teacher's job doesn't exactly pay much) and prepares for the next day.

It's not like she always wanted to be a teacher anyway. Growing up, just like 99% of earth's young population, she dreamed of being famous. Some hot-shot actor or a Grammy-winning singer. But the older she got, the clearer it became that she enjoyed teaching, sharing the knowledge and all that Jazz. Besides, she figured that if she were to have any kind of chance to influence young minds and try to make the world a little less hate-filled, it would be right here in school, where she at least had a shot at making the world a tiny little bit better.

Sometimes she feels like an idiot for even thinking this, but mostly she feels determined. And those who have purpose and determination always reach their goals.

At least, she is young enough to believe in such things. Life, though, has a slightly different ride stored for her. Even if she doesn't yet realize that the destination has just walked out of her room, biding her goodbye with a cute half-smile.

* * *

The door snaps shut smoothly as Brittany slides inside her Mustang GT. After retrieving the papers from Mr Harris' house, Ms Lopez decided they had done enough for one day. She's helped the substitute carry the boxes inside the school, bid her farewell and left.

It is when she slides her keys into ignition, that Brittany finally pauses.

"_When I think about love?_" She winces visibly, the conversation from earlier playing over in her head and barely fights the urge to bang her head on the steering wheel. "_What the actual fuck was that about?_"

She stays slumped into her seat for several minutes, feeling kind of stupid and trying to figure out what on earth had prompted her to share those ridiculous thoughts to a complete stranger, who, on top of that, is her teacher.

"Ugh, fuck. Whatever." She sighs out at last, shaking off the disturbing feeling and turns the keys. The engine roars, coming to life.

The ride home, as always, is uneventful. Same streets, same cars, same people. The same weird smell of soup that always lingers in the car every time she hits the red on the Mckinley avenue. But the feeling of strange uneasiness settled somewhere in her gut is definitely something new. Her brows stay furrowed the entire drive home, as well as for the rest of the day.

By the next morning the anxiety has morphed into nervous expectation. Of what exactly, Brittany is not so sure of. But when she parks the car, instead of heading to the bleachers like usual, she lights up a cigarette leaning against the hood of the mustang. She doesn't even finish it as she throws it on the ground and not even bothering to put it out properly, heads to the class.

She knows it's still early, even by the standards of the nerdiest of nerds, but for some reason she can't bring herself to care and that fact alone surprises her almost as much as it does Rachel Berry, who stares at her with her mouth hanging wide open as Brittany walks into the classroom.

The blonde girl shakes her head at the sight. There's something really off putting about the short brunette, but Brittany hasn't gone near enough to pinpoint exactly what. And she's certainly not planning to do so in the foreseeable future. So she proceeds to her table in the back and settles down to wait with a grunt. Minutes pass, but the feeling doesn't leave. Not only that, it's growing even stronger. Brittany becomes more restless with every single tik and tok. When she's not staring down at the watch, her eyes keep wandering to the door.

She may have said some stupid things the day before, but this right now, she decides, is getting ridiculous! So what if she sounded like a attention-seeking, pseudo-original moron, she thinks still wincing, it's not like she cares what some teacher thinks!

Another minute passes before she decides she may actually care a tiny little bit. She thinks it's because Ms. Lopez seems nice enough. Still it doesn't explain the weird sweaty palms and jerky knee.

The bell sounds at last and the door closes behind the much anticipated Latina.

Brittany releases a breath loudly when the suspense is finally over, but she's still uncertain if she feels relieved or even more nervous. She begins to get suspicious, because whatever this thing is, is not exactly normal. She knows her new teacher is beautiful, she did spend an afternoon with her in a close proximity after all, but today looking at her makes her feel funny. And not exactly the good kind. As the lesson proceeds her suspicion only grows and when during the discussion on the current book or a novel, or whatever the hell it is Brittany is too distracted to pay attention to, Ms. Lopez catches her eye and smiles, the blonde girl's eyes grow huge and yep, she already knows it's her turn now. She knows she's royally fucked.

Staying still after that realization settles is not easy. It's actually quite painful, but she manages to survive. The amount of relief she feels when the class is over is bordering ridiculous, that is if it wasn't accompanied the feeling of just as colossal disappointment. On one hand she wants to bolt from the room as fast as she can, but on the other - she can't seem to move her feet. She does leave though. It's not like she has much choice. She walks though the hallway eyes still wide and unfocused, not seeing her surroundings as if a somnambulist wandering through the night. She wants to attend the next class, at least that's what she thinks, but suddenly being in the room with twenty kids and a curly haired guy who wouldn't know difference between Spanish and Gibberish if his life depended on it, makes her feel claustrophobic. Which, again, is weird, because she's normally not the one to succumb to panic.

Fuck it, she decides, Figgins can bite her for all she cares. She's about to make the turn and head for the exit when a suddenly occurred thought catches her off guard and glues her to the spot. Ms. Lopez is Hispanic. She probably speaks Spanish. And just like that attending Mr Schuester's class shots up way higher on her list of priorities.

"Fuck. My. Life!" She all but squeals, hurrying up, almost running out of the building. "No no no. This can't be happening to me!"

She doesn't even pay attention to her beloved car when she runs right past it on her mission to get as far away from the school as possible. She doesn't stop for good ten minutes and only pauses to relieve her breath when she enters the only park in Lima. She finds an empty seat under the trees and drops down not very gracefully, willing her accelerated heartbeat to get back to relatively normal range.

Time passes, the panic resides and her head becomes clearer. She rubs her face fatigue rapidly replacing the other emotions and she feels like all her energy has been sucked out of her. She figures this must be what an encounter with a dementor would probably feel like. She feels better after that. At least she still has her sense of humor.

But the memory of the cold dread from earlier still looms over her, both suffocating and exciting her in ways she hadn't thought possible before.

More time goes by in watching the ducks hunt for breadcrumbs in the pond. She begins to feel ridiculous now. Her feelings from earlier start to seem so far removed from reality, she almost feels like laughing. But she doesn't, because it's right then that she remembers she has detention to get to.

Then she feels like vomiting.

And what surprises her for nth time that day is that she wouldn't miss that damned detention even if the sky came down or earth opened up to swallow Lima whole.

"Wow," she breathes on her way to front entrance of McKinley High, "when they say love is pain, they actually mean it literally."

The facepalm that follows this sentence is monumental.


	4. Chapter 4

The name Erika Morgan doesn't say anything to you and neither it does to Santana when she overhears a conversation between two cheerleaders on one faithful Friday.

The second Friday of her working week turns out to be a nice sunny surprise after daily rains. Tempted by the weather, Santana decides to enjoy her lunch out of the overstuffed building and heads for the bleachers that look deserted. The stadium, on the other hand, is occupied by the cheerleaders and their coach, who, Santana thinks, is not entirely normal. Seeing teenagers in flimsy uniforms and tight ponytails makes her think of her own days as a cheerio. Relief washes over her in waves. Thank god that legal form of torture is over for her. It did give her a body to die for though.

So there she sits, on the bleachers, looking over some of the essays from Mr Harris' never ending supply and munching on an apple. She shakes her head at another film version of the book students had been assigned to write about. Someone should really tell these kids that films more often than not differ from the books they're based on. She rubs her eyes in frustration and looking around she notices she's not alone anymore. Two cheerios occupying seats several rows in front of her catch her attention for some reason. They're both staring somewhere behind Santana, facial expressions not promising anything good to the object of their intense gazes.

"I'd swear Morgan was a frigid old maid if Pierce wasn't fucking her. What does Brittany even see in her is beyond me." Says one of the cheerios with a shake of her head.

"Totally," the second one readily agrees. "The girl's so uptight, makes me wonder how the hell Pierce manages to stick her junk in."

Santana gasps almost inhaling the whole apple. It's certainly not news to her that teens have sex, but it's still somewhat shocking. For the last two weeks she has come to think of her students like children, hence the reaction. She wants to glance back, wants to see the girl two cheerios are obviously not too fond of, but she doesn't dare. She feels like she's suddenly been exposed to a very private aspect of Brittany's life and it makes her feel embarrassed and a little uncomfortable.

The detention that day is certainly interesting and Santana is so so grateful it's the last one. But it stretches and drags. For some reason she can't bring herself to look Brittany in the eyes for the whole two hours, effectively making Brittany freak out. The sudden realization that her student is a sexual being catches her more off guard than it probably should have. She keeps hoping it's because of initial embarrassment she felt, but the feeling doesn't go away. At some point she dares to raise her eyes from the papers to observe the girl. Brittany's sitting in the front row, her head bowed down she seems lost in her cell phone. Santana notices her long fingers running over the screen, her long blonde hair and fair skin. Something stirs in her lower stomach and she gasps as the realization hits her. Brittany looks up at the noise with questioning eyes and Santana immediately averts her gaze. Brittany's brows scrunch up, but she shrugs and goes back to her phone. Santana wonders if she's texting this Morgan person and the strange feeling in her gut only intensifies. Her fingers start to shake as she tries to collect the papers to put them away. She feels ashamed, she shouldn't having these feelings for her student.

"Brittany, I think it's enough for today." She gets up, needing to get away from the girl in front to clear her head.

"Oh, okay. Goodbye, Ms Lopez." Brittany collects her stuff unhurried and leaves.

"Goodbye." She breathes burying her face in her hands.

* * *

One whole week earlier

Days pass. Seeing Santana (as she's come to refer to her in her head now) has grown considerably less stressful, but by the end of the week Brittany is still walking around bewildered. Nausea and impromptu panic attacks, however, have resided, so she's at least thankful for that small relief.

Sometimes in the dead of night she wonders if she's gone insane and to her horror, she can't say for sure that she hasn't. On the other hand though, her head has never been so clear.

* * *

My dear reader probably knows that whenever someone embarks on a journey to do a heroic deed (and those of you who have been in love probably are aware that being in love and fighting for it is perhaps the toughest thing one can do), there's always a sidekick. For example, Don Quixote had Sancho, Frodo had Sam, Harry had Hermione and so on and so on. Well Brittany, being the hero of this little tale, also has a sidekick, even if neither of them are aware of this fact as of yet. The name of her comrade is Erika of the house Morgan and you're about to meet her as on one Friday afternoon she decides to give Brittany a call.

Her phone buzzes when Brittany slides into her car after two hour long detention. She grabs the device and is met with Erika's face lighting up on the screen. Brittany frowns, she has completely forgotten about the girl, but seeing as she hasn't gotten any calls or text all week, it's safe to say Erika has forgotten about her too. Forgotten or not, she still has things, or a thing, regarding said German-Italian girl, to take care of. She accepts the call.

"Hey."

_"Are you free?"_

"I am, but..."

_"But?"_

"We need to talk."

There's a sigh on the other end, _"Very well. I'm expecting you at my house in fifteen minutes." _

The line goes dead after that. So bossy, Brittany thinks, but she doesn't make the move to start the car. It won't kill her to wait for a few minutes. Twenty minutes pass before Brittany's on her way to the meeting. Another ten minutes later she pulls up at the gray stoned mansion located in the better part of the town and in her own neighborhood.

She barely manages to push the doorbell before the door is opened to reveal a dark haired girl with eyes so gray they almost resemble melted titanium. She steps aside and invites Brittany in with a wave of hand that she makes look so graceful old doubts Brittany had about Erika being the future queen of some small European kingdom suddenly come rushing back to her.

She pushes those ridiculous thoughts away from her mind, nods in greeting and steps inside without a word. The hostess leads them to the kitchen.

"Would you like a drink?" The girl asks when Brittany settles on a barstool.

"Water's fine. Thanks."

"Listen, Erika," Brittany starts when a glass of water is placed before her.

"You want to back out from our arrangement, I know." The girl interrupts her calmly, taking a seat next to the blonde.

"What? You do?" Brittany's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Of course. Because of your feelings for Ms Lopez." She says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?! I do not - I do not have feelings for Ms Lopez. That's ridiculous!" The young blonde tries to laugh, but her voice sounds strained. There's no way this girl is serious! She hasn't even breathed a word to anyone, and Erika's statement comes like a lightning on a sunny day.

Erika's dark eyebrows rise as if challenging Brittany and Brittany has a feeling that no matter how much she denies it, there's no point. She's already been caught.

"When did you find out?" She hides her face in both hands.

Erika looks down at her watch, "Approximately Thirty minutes ago. You were late, by the way."

"You're shitting me." Brittany stares at her with wide eyes. "How?"

"I am most certainly not. I simply made hypothesis based on facts, which you confirmed not two minutes ago when you attempted to lie to me when I caught you off guard with a direct question. By the way, you're a terrible liar."

"You're not joking... seriously, how did you know? Am I that transparent?" What if Santana noticed too? Fuck, that'd be so embarrassing! Brittany cringed, fighting the urge to run away and hide. For the sake of accuracy, that particular urge has assaulted her these past several days significantly more often than it has all her life.

Erika doesn't smile too often, but on those few occasions that she does, her stone cold European face becomes strangely attractive and this is one of those rare moments. She turns in her seat to get more comfortable.

"Well, if you care to know, I could share how I came to such conclusion?"

"Wh... yeah."

"Well, actually I had several hypothesis, but this one seemed the most probable. Obviously it started when you told me you wanted to talk. That's not typical for our relationship, so I thought, what could you possibly wish to speak about, if not our arrangement? Judging from your voice over the phone it was clear you thought the conversation wouldn't be pleasant, hence why I came to conclusion you wanted to break it off."

"Ok, but what about Santana?"

"People do everything for a reason. If you find out what that reason is and then successfully put yourself in shoes of the object of your interest, it's not too hard to guess their actions. Once I knew what you wanted, I began to wonder why. When we saw each other last on Sunday you didn't show any signs you wanted to quit, so I knew something had happened after that, in the span of the last five days. It was clear whatever reason you had, it was of romantic nature. I didn't see why you would've wanted to end things otherwise. Your sudden desire to quit had to have been prompted by your interest in someone else. It obviously had to be someone from school since you haven't been going out past week. I know because I have the sound of every car in our neighborhood memorized. You only ever went to school and then after detention straight home. That's when I remembered the newest addition to McKinley high. The beautiful literature teacher Ms Lopez. And voila, a hypothesis was born. The only thing left for me to do was to test it, and you are well aware how that went."

"That's unbelievable and a little creepy." To say Brittany is surprised would be a pretty big understatement. She's so amazed she even forgets her troubles for a minute.

Erika only shrugs. "You don't need to worry on my account. Your secret is safe with me. Would I be correct to assume you haven't done anything about your attraction yet?"

"Yeah." Brittany sighs. "I have no idea what to do. I can't even look at her without a minor panic attack, not to mention carry out a conversation."

"Honestly, having a relationship with you now is not in her best interests. With you being a minor and with her being your teacher. There's not much you can do if you really care about her future."

"Dammit I think I do care." Brittany laments. "Erika, about that arrangement, no hard feelings, right?"

"Of course not." The girl waves her off. "The sex was good, but I can always find it elsewhere. However, I must admit, finding a willing partner who doesn't get attached often proves to be a problem."

"I'm sure you'll manage. Say, have you seen Santana?"

"She doesn't teach the class I'm in, but yes, I've seen her around school."

"And?"

"And what? You want to know if she's gay or if she's single?"

"Oh my god, you know?"

"I didn't have any reason to observe her, but I can say she's not married, which you already know from the lack of a ring on her finger. I could try to find out more if you'd like."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course. Analyzing people is my favorite pastime."

"You're not half bad, you know."

"I do, and now you know it too." Erika laughs and just like that unlikely but strong friendship is born.

"You really care about her, don't you?"

"I do."

"Well then don't fret, my dear. I'm sure we'll figure something out."

* * *

After Santana all but runs away from the bleachers, the girl with gray eyes stands and approaches the gossiping cheerios.

"Ladies, the performance was flawless." She hands both of them cash and walks away not waiting for a response.

"She's seriously creepy."

"Yep. Pays well though."


End file.
